The View From Outside

I've love to suggest that this post will be the final installment of the woe-is-me trilogy that started last week, but it probably won't be. In any case, Monday was indeed my final day at what I'd previously been calling The Job. I went into the office fairly early to clean out my desk. I decided to forego the morning meeting, as I figured that attending was somewhat pointless and would've left me and probably a few others feeling needlessly uncomfortable or confused. Instead, I opted for a comparatively long, albeit not-quite-leisurely breakfast at The Lodge, the storied company commissary. Prior to Monday, I never really had a great deal of time to spend at The Lodge. Myself and most of my colleagues made a habit of grabbing food and scurrying back to eat at our desks. Such was the nature of our work. To borrow a tag line from another media outlet, the news watch never stopped.

On Monday, however, my schedule was wide open. After my breakfast, I strolled out onto the Lodge's expansive terrace, overlooking the hustle and bustle of Times Square. Even at this relatively early hour of the day, the Square was already churning with activity. I took a few moments to soak up the view of the renowned concrete canyon and snapped a few pics. I remember thinking the first time I spotted this terrace that the view would be impressive. It's odd that I didn't get to experience it until my final day.

After settling up with human resources and signing off on a few things, I collected my box of belongings (largely meaningless tchotcke like my Iron Maiden coffee mug, a vintage Plasmatics poster, etc.) and bid a few fond farewells to my friends. This was easily the hardest part. While I won't miss having to worry about which rapper shot which other rapper or whether or not Britney Spears has tattooed a swastika on her forehead and checked back into rehab, I have come to count several of my former colleagues as good friends, and I will miss them very much. It is still somewhat inconceivable that I will no longer be in regular, daily contact with them. We'll stay in touch, I'm sure, but it's not going to be the same.

I rode the elevator down with my friend/star-writer James, we said our goodbyes and there I suddenly was; literally outside of the building in the heart of Times Square, holding a big box of my stuff. I walked over to the subway and made my way back downtown, where my wife and children were waiting for me.